Nick knows he should brace himself whenever I’m in a tough place emotionally.
It always means more animals.
This past week I pushed my IT band too far and now am paying for it with restricted activity and an aching hip.
Plus, the latest news on my latest manuscript was not good. My agent is once again asking for massive changes and my heart just isn’t in it. So physically and mentally, I’m feeling a little defeated.
And I’m really glad I only have three as I get my puppy-raising legs back underneath me.
After several different set ups, I’ve settled on having a big area (3/4 of the room) for their awake time and a small area (1/4) for bed time, nap time, and get-them-out-of-the-way-so-I-can-clean-without-helpers time.
It’s quite the dog party at my foster cottage. The last month with the hound dogs has been relatively quiet. Other than the occasional concert, they are a pretty quiet pair. Lots of sleeping, casing the joint for treats, and counter-surfing, but no real rough-housing.
Enter Gina, our party girl. She has definitely upped the energy level here.
Rufus is thrilled to have a playmate. The two have regular play sessions all day long – chasing, wrestling, rolling, and lots of keep away with a toy (but no tug, Gina doesn’t seem to understand tug, she just gives the toy up). For a dog who is supposed to be seven, Rufus has some serious game.
I’m pretty sure my neighbors know what kind of dogs we have squirreled away in our foster cottage.
Rufus and Bug sing lovely songs periodically that make me smile. I’m not even sure what gets them started or what they are singing about. The serenades rarely last long and sometimes happen shortly after I’ve left them, but sometimes two hours later.
I know that first hand, as does anyone in the rescue world. It’s part and parcel to the whole rescue mentality – you want to help and you can easily over-extend. You can’t bear for animals to suffer.
And sadly, lately, that proclivity to take on more and more has led to rescues turning into hoarding cases.
Two different situations came through my world this weekend that I could do nothing about, but a local wannabe rescuer’s overwhelm did spill into my world, or to be exact, my not-quite-finished foster cottage.
She’s no longer living on a chain (yay), but she is confined to one room much of her day. She can see the other dogs, hang out with our foster cat, and watch the activity out her window, but she’d much prefer to be with a person.
Abby is a people-dog. She loves people – all kinds, all sizes, all attitudes. She isn’t discouraged by her predicament, but I am.
I don’t know what to tell you about Bippity Bop. Her health situation is a mystery. As we back off (very slowly) from the anti-seizure medications, she is still not herself. It’s like the little dog who arrived here a month ago, is gone, vanished.
In her place, is a timid pup who startles easily, is unsteady on her feet, and seems confused most of the time. X-Port Paws and I are reaching out to different doctors and rescue organizations for advice and plan to do all we can to get to the bottom of this, but my heart is heavy as she is deteriorating quickly. I just want my spunky little girl back.